The Colours They Deceive
by Geiera
Summary: Zim vanished on a Tuesday.


**Title:** The Colours They Deceive

**Series:** Invader Zim

**Summary: **Zim vanished on a Tuesday.

**Warning(s): **None.

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He just wanted to graduate. That was the only reason he bothered showing up to Chemistry 12, a class he was more qualified to teach than the perpetually-nervous Mrs. Muggus. Here he was listening to her mispronounce 'iodine' for the gazillionth time instead of doing something productive…like building lasers.

In grade ten, he had crafted an intricate (and slightly embarrassing) conspiracy theory about how the individual classrooms of the school each existed on a separate plane and therefore operated under a different concept of time than the rest of the world. Depending on how agonizing each class was, time would slow accordingly to draw out every last second of teenage suffering.

Dib really needed to revise that theory. He might have been on to something.

"And so… Uh. Next we take the… The stuff? Okay? Okaaaay?"

Mrs. Muggus, on the verge of hyperventilating, pointed at one of the noble gases. She smiled in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but came out really, really creepy.

"Okaaaaay. So then we uhh… Turn the page annnnnd…"

A fat bead of sweat trailed down the side of her face, smearing a thick patch of bright pink blush. One of the students near the front made a gagging motion. Dib rolled his eyes. Just another day in his personal Hell.

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He stood as the bus lurched to a halt and awkwardly maneuvered down the aisle. For some reason, everyone put their bags in the area _meant for walking_. Quick reflexes were all that saved him from toppling down the exit stairs and cracking his skull on the sidewalk.

"Have a nice day, kids," croaked the bus driver as he tapped his cigarette out the window, shaking little grey bits loose.

October really, really wasn't supposed to be this cold. Sure, lots of girls still violated every part of the dress code, but that didn't change how freaking _cold _it was. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Dib scowled and trudged towards home, turning up the volume on his MP3 to drown out the rush and roar of the wind.

Idly, he wondered what Gaz was doing. Or if she had moved since this morning. Gaz had stayed home for the fourth day straight since her new game came out. Dad would notice in a week or two – the attentive father that he was.

Dib usually talked while walking home. And Gaz would, presumably, listen. Being in his own head sucked sometimes and it was nice to get it all out. Sadly, he didn't have that luxury today. Instead of sulking and blaming the world and Gaz and being angsty, he turned the volume even louder and tried not to think about the sick feeling in his chest, the one that never really went away.

Home had a locked door and all the lights turned out, exactly as he'd left it. Dib nearly twisted the knob off in his panic to get in and get warm.

"Gaz?"

No answer. He sighed and kicked his shoes off.

"GAZ?"

All evidence pointed to Gaz being home: her combat boots were by the door and there was a stack of dirty dishes and pop cans by the sink.

"GAZ, I'M HOME!"

Dib started down the hallway. There was a hint of light peaking through the gap of Gaz's bedroom door and the sound of angry, loud clicking. Since he didn't feel like prying an angry gamer away from her current obsession, he shrugged and went to his room.

It had been years since he'd taken down the posters and stripped the wires and cables, but tacks and little twisted nails were just visible on the otherwise bare walls. His setup was much simpler now: dual monitors and a narrow computer tower. It wasn't a very big bedroom to begin with, especially since his growth spurt, but Dib always found it strange that he could stretch both arms out and not knock over something over.

"Welcome home, Dib," he said, sliding his backpack to the floor. He was careful not the damage the laptop resting inside, but then again, it really didn't matter – all his data was backed up and Dad always had a spare somewhere in his lab, probably acting as a coaster.

With one last look at the little string of blue light near the end of the hallway, Dib shut his door and turned the lock.

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Zim vanished on a Tuesday.

At first, he was suspicious. Zim being away from Skool was usually followed by an outrageously convoluted scheme to extinguish/enslave/annoy the human race. Sometimes, outer space was involved. Or bees. Or hot dogs. Or zombies who fed on toenail clippings and thus created the three month ordeal that was Toemageddon.

So Dib investigated. Immediately.

He checked the hidden cameras in Zim's kitchen and living room on his laptop. The only thing which struck him as odd was the empty spot on the couch, usually filled by Zim's maniacal robot, Gir. But Gir's absence could mean anything from tacquitos to world domination. It wasn't much to go by.

As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of Skool, Dib was off. He ran down backroads, alleys, and cut across four-lane streets and skidded past cars with just the barest chance of a successful dodge. He flung himself over fences, avoided guard dogs and bullies and traffic guards. Dib didn't care if he skinned his knee or ripped his backpack or broke traffic laws because this was _Zim _and this could be The Day where he finally got the slip on the alien, caught him completely off guard and wasn't interrupted by demons/policemen/guidance counselors.

His newly-upgraded cloaking device got him past the gnomes with relative ease. Despite doing this tens-, no, _hundreds_ of times he went up the little garden path, the glaringly pink Men's Room door never got…less wrong. It was a reminder that, no matter how much the alien lied through his teeth or played nice, he was still different enough to be dangerous.

The first sweep of the house found nothing. Gir wasn't in any of his usual spots and, while Zim's lab was in lockdown, the computer sleepily informed Dib that Zim had gone out. Just to be sure, he placed a couple more bugs and filled his camera with a new set of photos for later comparison. Dib left at around six, to be on time for dinner (although, as he was finally starting to realize, it really didn't matter).

Tomorrow at school, Zim's desk remained empty. And the day after that. And the next one. And the next…

He started checking the house every second day. And then only on weekends. When the batteries in the cameras went dead, it took Dib four days to notice and then another two to do anything about it. There was nothing stealing his attention from Zim, classes were easy and he didn't have any real friends or anything, but the nothingness, the silence and the empty house felt more like defeat than victory. He didn't want to face it anymore.

He stopped harassing the Swollen Eyeballs for intel on Zim. Then, he didn't renew his subscription to Paranormal Weekly. The clutter of pieced-together inventions and piles of evidence in his room started to bother him, grating on his nerves like a prickling, incessant itch.

Was this _supposed _to be victory? The alien was gone, dead for all he knew, but he couldn't-… No, he _didn't _enjoy it one bit.

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"So, Dib."

He pushed his dinner around on the plate, watching the meat juices smear into one big blotchy mess. "Yes, Dad?"

"What happened to that friend of yours…? You know, the foreign one who was all…greeny and such."

Dib dropped his fork. The floating screen's image crackled a few times as the professor started up some big machine in the background. It was probably some experiment that would revolutionize energy or waste management or modern medicine or _something _very, very important.

Of course Dad wouldn't see the absolutely broken look on his face. It was justified.

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**A/N: **Found this lurking in some abandoned folder on my computer. Decided to revive it.

As always, I appreciate any feedback you guys can offer. Thanks for reading!


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